


The More You Know...

by MiseryLovesMe32



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: 5 + 1 kinda fic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Badass Roxy, Canonical Character Death, Chronic Illness, Don't touch merlin's things, F/M, Harry hart is dead but still a part of story, He's a casanova, He's very protective of Eggsy and Roxy, Injured Eggsy, M/M, Made-up villain, Merlin can dance, Merlin is a Badass, Napping, No really just don't do it, Not A Fix-It, Nursemaid Merlin, Original Character(s), Past harry hart, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Merlin, Puppy cavalry, Shameless Smut, Sickfic, This fic became a bit of a monster, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, evil scientist, fighting bad guys/violence, platonic until chapter 4, sharing is caring, sleeping buddies, so much squish, young Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiseryLovesMe32/pseuds/MiseryLovesMe32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has many talents and secrets - some humorous, some deadly. Eggsy and Roxy slowly discover a few. </p><p>And Eggsy learns one thing about himself.</p><p>Fun and fluff for chapter one. </p><p>Action, and Merlin backstory in chapter two.</p><p>Nursemaid Merlin and lots of snuggles for chapter three.</p><p>Chapter four and five were originally one but at over ten thousands words just had to split in two. SMUTTERY! You've been warned :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Hips Don't Lie, But Your Disguises Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's got moves. And carries a secret stash of disguises wherever he goes.

* * *

 

They all know Merlin can dance.

During training, he taught them all to Waltz, Tango, Foxtrot, and even to Salsa. And frankly it was a sight to behold. Merlin’s hips are a weapon all of their own.

However, neither Eggsy nor Roxy quite realise the extent of Merlin’s pelvic-sorcery until on a mission.

The dancefloor of the underground club is packed with people but a distraction is needed to keep it that way, wanting no stragglers walking by. Not while Lancelot breaks into the vault to reach the stolen codes. Galahad stands guard, scanning the monitors to his right, and ready for any intruders to appear on his left.

Over the com, Merlin tells them not to worry. “One diversion coming right up.”

Just as Roxy breaks the first combination lock, Eggsy from his view of the CCTV cameras sees the crowd part and form a circle in the centre, beneath the large disco ball. But Eggsy is too busy handling two bodyguard's to watch much more.

He’s quick to dispose of them, and stores their unconscious forms inside said vault, after Roxy successfully opens the steel-bolted door. Then with the USB securely stored inside her Kingsman designed bra, they make a move.

However, emerging from the backrooms and weaving into the main bustle of people; bass thumping, trumpets blowing, and people singing along, they finally realise the spectacle they’ve been missing.

On the edge of the circle of bodies, the pair can't believe, but can't deny, the sight that is the one-man dance machine rocking to Uptown Funk. Their handler, their friend, Merlin.

“Got the package?” His voice purrs in their ears, but not missing a beat as he winks and strips his velvet jacket. Shrugging it off his shoulders in one smooth move and chucks the item at the front row of ladies, who holler and whistle excitedly. “‘Cause I may have left the taxi running.”

To which they can only nod, Roxy and Eggsy’s mouths still slack.

It’s definitely Merlin, but it’s not Merlin at all. His jaw heavily stubbled, when it was freshly shaven this morning. And he’s swapped his usual uniform sweater for a tight, white shirt, and even tighter pair of black jeans, that somehow don't stop him from grooving. The man hustles across the light-up squares, and shakes it like no ones business - snake hips killing the crowd.

But it gets better. He raises a seductive eyebrow at Roxy, throws out a line and begins to reel her in. And she goes - mock-astonishment transforming into a saucy grin, hips swaying. The cheers are deafening at the display, the sea of people dividing to let her through and clapping in time with the beat.

Taking her hand, Merlin twirls Roxy, her black dress blooming up beautifully. Before he wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her close against hip and chest, then dips her low just as the song roars into the final repeat of the chorus.

The crowd is so pumped they finally jump in with their own dancing, and the trio slip out, unnoticed.

 *****

Merlin is not only a master of disguise, but of seduction.

Nobility, high-ranking officers, and politicians from all around the world fill the ballroom of the Schwerin Palace of North Germany - unaware an assassination is planned to take place. But not if Lancelot, Galahad, and Merlin have anything to say on the matter.

Dressed to the nines, Roxy is ravishing in a beautiful red gown as she keeps a close eye on the potential target. While Eggsy is scouting from up high; leant against the ornate, bronze railing, champagne flute in hand as his glasses scan the crowd.

The assassination will be a spectacle - this is political, it will be up-close. Eduardo Galos must not be left alone for even a second.

But the man is popular, everybody wants to shake hands and meet the favourite to be the future Italian Head of State. A multitude of socialites continue vying for his attention, applying every trick in the book, but to no avail. Roxy has only managed through sheer force of will and sharp wit to stay by his side. But people keep pulling him away, his attention slipping from her; she’s going to lose him...

“Miss Faversham.”

Roxy turns at the use of her codename for the night, to find a tall, very well-dressed gentleman at her left. She smiles politely but doesn’t recognise the handsome man beside her. Until he smiles.

Roxy could never mistake those dimples and the crinkles around his eyes. Her training hides her shock, but her mind gasps, _Merlin!_

She admires the disguise with a studious gaze, wondering how he put it together so quickly. Not five minutes ago he'd been on the plane. With perfectly quaffed, dark brown hair; a lick of grey threading through the chocolate strands, and a black tail suit that accentuates his long legs, he's an incredible sight. But it's the details, the pale blue sash that compliments his equally blue contacts, and the six medals of honour displayed across his breast, which finishes the attire.

Roxy unconsciously takes a swig of her champagne, throat suddenly dry.

Merlin's whole demeanour is different too; his posture relaxed, welcoming, and a youthful confidence beams from his bright eyes and playful grin. He looks at least ten years younger for it.

All of this culminates in the perfect package that would have anyone wishing for an audience, many pairs of inquisitive eyes already turning; socialites priming themselves for attack - looking the delectable newcomer up and down. And again.

“How wonderful to see you again, my dear.” Merlin kisses her on both cheeks. His gaze travels the length of her with friendly warmth, hands cupping her elbows gently. “My, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.” Faux-English accent rolling deep and heavenly off the tongue.

Roxy's lips rise high but she hides any sudden butterflies with a jovial pat of his chest.

“Care to introduce me to your friend?” Those baby blues landing on the captivated Mr. Galos over her shoulder.

“Oh, how rude of me. This is Diplomat Eduardo Galos.” Roxy prompts with a hand between them.

Merlin extends his and it’s received eagerly. “Commander Robert Delamonte.” The smile that joins the firm handshake is enough to drop anyone to their knees. And for a second, Roxy believes Galos nearly did.

Merlin isn’t done though. He steps close, just the right side of comfortable, and begins actively engaging the politician in small talk. Then on to the current state of affairs, which you’d think Eduardo would be sick of, but he lights up. He’s engaged, passionate, and that’s why so many love him - truly a man of the people and for the people. And why the old order of parliament do not. He will bring about change.

However, what seals the deal is when 'Delamonte' begins speaking fluent Italian, leaving many around them with no clue as to what they are discussing. And when he leans in to whisper; hand gentle on the diplomat's shoulder, thumb briefly caressing his neck, the pair laugh heartily and regard each other with a secretive smile.

Eduardo doesn’t spare anyone more than a glance and a polite word for the rest of the evening. He remains at 'Delamonte's' side no matter who presents themselves.

Now Roxy understands why no girl managed to grab his attention for very long. His public profile and even their own detailed intel hadn't revealed the secret. But Merlin had spotted and acted upon his hunch. And here he stands charming the pants off Galos. Merlin has pulled.

It shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise to either Roxy, or Eggsy. Whose champagne nearly slipped from his grasp, when his Kingsman glasses registered Merlin’s presence in the crowd below. Magnifying the image and disbelieving, until Roxy verified with a giggle.

Merlin had taught the seduction classes. Though it had been mostly theory – scenarios you may encounter, skills to be learned and tricks to use, with guest speakers and footage shown of past honey pots. There were practical assignments too and roleplay, but at no time did they involve Merlin showcasing his panty-dropping ability.

But witnessing the skill applied was something else - an art form. And made the younger agents realise they still had a lot to learn, having seen a master at work.

The assassination attempt is foiled in grand style.

Eggsy's frames alert him when the hitmen and woman appear. But with help from the live orchestra kicking it up a notch, drawing the crowd into a thick cluster, they're unable to get close to their target.

Upon the signal, Merlin makes it his duty to disappear Eduardo and himself, keeping out of harm’s way.

Lancelot and Galahad expertly direct the killer-trio with crowd participation. A few helpful waiters here, a clumsy socialite or two there, and a drunken couple spilling their beverages, bringing the frustrated three back to where they entered. And exactly where Lancelot and Galahad want them.

Roxy intersects, having slipped through the billiard room and round. She catches them in the deserted, main lobby and offers a knowing-smirk of, ‘I know exactly why you’re here.’ And when they turn to flee back to the ballroom, Eggsy is there waiting with an equally shit-eating grin, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

Their only option is to go up the stairs. Just as planned.

So while the orchestra in the main gallery astonishes the distinguished gathering with the crescendo of Beethoven’s Symphony No.7, Eggsy and Roxy take care of business.

What's harder they discover is extracting Merlin from Eduardo’s company at the end of the night - the pair having snuck away onto a secluded, moonlit balcony for some fresh air.

Upon the ‘all clear’ from Galahad and Lancelot, Merlin begins his farewell.

Poor Eduardo is on the verge of tears when 'Delamonte' whispers his final goodnight. Declaring that he truly must go but would remember this night always - the sweet Italian promise ghosting warm over the shell of his ear.

But the sadness in the still-young politician's eyes plead, hopeful in their request. And Merlin shows mercy, and gifts the besotted Eduardo Galos a languid, goodbye kiss underneath the stars.

Roxy and Eggsy swoon; sighing in unison, elbows resting on the carved-stone balustrade above, overlooking the scene. The three unconscious bodies on the floor behind them, tied-up and completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uptown Funk is still my jam, so I used it, sorry.
> 
> For Beethoven - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahvrHrPGi1k - The whole thing is amazing but start at 29.36 for what I used for inspiration.
> 
> I really wanted to call this fic - Merlin: Scottish Man of Mystery, but I resisted haha! Naming things is hard.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed first part. Thanks for reading :)


	2. Crouching Scotsman, Hidden Badass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s more than one reason why people shouldn’t touch Merlin’s things. And of all his secrets, there’s one he shouldn’t be ashamed about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some fighting in this, so violence, similar to the film, but don't think it really needs to go up a rating. If you disagree let me know and I'll change.

* * *

Never underestimate Merlin.

Evil scientists are a rare breed these days - white lab coat, crazy hair, and mad experiments belonging to a bygone age. But a new breed does exist - they're smarter, more ruthless, and where the previous have failed, the current do not.

However, Doctor Simone Sayez is a force to be reckoned with - intelligent, cut-throat, and perfectly insane. If not for the Kingsman locating her laboratories; Eggsy and Bedivere blowing more than a hole in her plans, the world's population would've become her chemically-induced followers within days - half of Europe and America already under the influence and their governments still unaware.

Merlin explicitly ordered Eggsy not to engage Simone in a fight, not until back-up arrived but the young Galahad refused to let her escape. He pursued her, fought her, and underestimated her - receiving a needle into his shoulder-joint for the effort and dropped to his knees, pain ricocheting through his body. His vision darkened and his body numbed to the toxin in his blood stream. He couldn’t move, paralysed and helpless when Sayez loomed over him. Eggsy’s last sight before blacking out was the woman not inches from his face and staring him in the eyes – looking at Merlin behind the frames - and bared her white teeth in a venomous grin, and mouthed, _foolish_.

The rescue team arrived not five minutes later, Roxy listening to Merlin's immediate instructions and directions to find Eggsy's prone form. He was alive, breathing, but comatose. Bedivere on the other hand hadn't been so lucky, the older man having been captured by Sayez's remaining assistants and hauled into a waiting chopper. Because with one Kingsman agent, the good doctor could perform one last deed before she vanished like a ghost, living to return another day.

Simone's manicured nails flick the needle and her grin is sickly sharp when she injects a concentrated dose of her blue serum into Bedivere's neck. He writhes and screams and she takes a seat opposite him to watch, gaze unflinching, devouring, as her beloved formula overwhelms his body.

A minute and he slumps forward, and Simone begins to ask the compliant agent a few probing questions, voice hypnotic in the Queen's English. Because if she can't have the world for now, she'll take a consolation prize instead… Destroying the Kingsman Organisation.

When the tracker in Bedivere's glasses finally activates after two days of silence; no matter Merlin’s efforts at activating a signal, all available agents are deployed to rescue their comrade, whilst the remaining and lower ranking members of staff are out purifying water supplies around the world, undoing the damage done and prevent any further outbreaks.

But the mansion can never be left empty. Eggsy with his arm in a sling and body recovering from the poison, he’s unfit to lend a hand, much to his frustration. With Merlin doubling as Arthur, he must stay at HQ and oversee progress of the rescue mission and clean-up operation.

Whereas Roxy has no reason to remain behind; to go and assist the others, only a feeling deep in her belly telling her not to leave the two men alone. But she's prepared to argue, pulling Merlin aside before the mission debrief in the Kingsman tailors. Except he doesn't fight her on the topic, and Roxy notices an uneasy tightness leave his jaw and shoulders, as if her staying is a comfort for an unspoken suspicion.

They come that very night, silent and intent. Mercenaries ordered to kill anyone they find and raid the lower levels for weaponry. Doctor Sayez having provided codes and entry extracted via her chemical persuasion.

But from the moment the armed-soldiers touch down upon the grounds of the Kingsman estate, the troops are at the mercy of Merlin’s wizardry, at arsenal undisclosed to Bedivere or any other agent, until now.

A circuit of mines sunken beneath the grass rise to attention beneath the army’s feet, but these beauties don't explode – that’d be too easy. And there’s no reason to ruin the lawn. Instead, once detonated they latch on and run an electrical current through the body. It's transferrable too; the troops topple like dominos.

Motion-sensor lasers in the trees divide and conquer any who wish to take a cheeky shortcut, and the three helicopters they landed in are scrambled by the miniature drone; darts fired into their metal hulls and fry all technology and anyone on the inside.

That’s not the last offensive designed and controlled by the touch of Merlin's fair hand, however. For those poor souls who do slip past; staggering over the final mound of grass hoping for sanctuary on the gravel path, come face to face with the twenty strong Kingsman dog unit. Their protective harnesses activate, and with a bark JB leads the charge.

There are survivors though, fifteen, giving double meaning to their namesake of soldiers of fortune, and with their stealth approach ruined opt for knocking on the front door. Splintered wood and buckled reinforced steel explodes across the main hallway, scattering on the marble floor and piercing the walls.

Not waiting for the dust and smoke to settle; triumphant grins smug on their faces, they stomp forward. However, their collective pride and inflated egos at outsmarting the surprise attack and making it inside the mansion is gravely mistaken.

Emerging from the cloud of smoke and shadows, the dregs of the hired-army is greeted by Merlin's formidable figure, clipboard in hand and with an unimpressed glance at his watch.

One soldier takes up his gun but Lancelot steps out from behind Merlin, training her standard Kingsman issue on the goon’s forehead. And up on the landing, a tripod aiding his stance, Eggsy’s index finger tightens against the trigger of the sniper rifle – red-dot centred.

But Merlin told him to wait.

The mercenaries, bloodied and broken but nevertheless still standing, begin to laugh.

A large-shouldered male, TNT strapped to his chest and his cheekbones tattooed with coded threats, steps forward. "Is this it? What the doctor warned us about? The best the great Kingsman organisation can produce? What a fucking jo..."

He doesn't get to finish. The soldier’s body and head separate and hit the marble floor with a resounding thud.

Merlin's clipboard spins and lands precisely back in his raised hand, edge-blade glistening. He smiles. "You were saying?"

The first shot is theirs, but it misses. And they don't get a second chance.

The proceeding fight is a glorious symphony of pain; slicing flesh, snapping bones, gun fire, and a rising chorus of anguished screams. Merlin, Roxy, and Eggsy working in perfect sync to quash the intruders, who had the audacity to step inside _their_ headquarters, inside _their_ home.

Amidst the brutal battle, one woman Roxy sent sprawling to the floor desperately stretches for the clipboard to enact revenge. The deadly office supply discarded in favour of Merlin using his fists to break an opponent’s face.

Eggsy takes aim but as soon as her fingers touch the gadget a jolt of electricity shoots through her and she convulses beside her decapitated friend. However, so focused on this, eye to the night-vision scope, Eggsy’s blind to the two dark figures sneaking up the staircase...

Roxy and Merlin whip round at Eggsy’s cry, his damaged arm wrenched the wrong way by two men overpowering him, and the sight and sound twists their stomachs. But it only serves to harden their knuckles and quicken their actions, striking down the last two at-hand in brutal finality.

Pushing up his red-stained frames, Merlin makes his way up the stairs; stride murderous, while Roxy takes aim and shoots one from where she stands. The bullet splits the enemy’s skull and he goes crossed eyed and drops limply to the floor.

Upon Merlin reaching the top of the staircase, Eggsy is pushed to the ground and kicked in the stomach by the remaining soldier, who swaggers forward, fists lifted in challenge. "Come on then, old man."

The display and words don’t falter Merlin’s pace, not remotely, he just keeps coming. His hands not even raised to protect himself as he dodges every right and left hook with ease, and continues moving forward, pushing the younger man backwards with his sheer presence. The now not-so-cocky-soldier growls, frustrated, and he becomes reckless, fists flying in a desperate bid to land a hit. But he misses every time and in rage-filled desperation, let's down his guard…

Merlin head butts him, forehead cracking against the mercenary’s nose and snaps the bone.

Eggsy hasn’t moved but it’s not the pain of his arm or stomach stopping him, it’s Merlin. He’s unable to tear his eyes away from the reserved man he’s come to know, so used to seeing him at a desk or a clipboard in hand. To hearing Merlin’s calm voice instruct and encourage, and his steady, dexterous fingers tinker and create technology for Eggsy to use and carry out violence.

But in this moment, Eggsy bears witness as his handler marches forward and unleashes four bone-breaking punches. Knocking the mercenary back a step each time as Merlin states with every crunch of his fist, “Don't. Touch. My. Things.”

Too overwhelmed to say or do anything, Eggsy just watches as the last uppercut finishes the intruder and follows his descent, collapsing on the carpet; teeth missing and jaw broken. And with his eyes wide and locked to the unconscious man at his feet, Eggsy doesn’t even notice Merlin bend down onto one knee next to him.

“Eggsy? You okay?” Merlin’s tone anxious.

However, it’s not until with a gentle brush of a thumb across his cheek, a warm palm cupping his face, that Eggsy’s gaze lifts to the older man's. Merlin’s green eyes are no longer angry and hell-bent, but are soft with concern. And it takes Eggsy a moment to realise the hand that just laid waste to the man who hurt him, to the men downstairs, and the many outside, is the same holding him so carefully, so protectively...

The corners of Eggsy’s mouth quirk up and his eyes smile just as warmly. “Yeah, I’m fine, Merlin.”

***

Merlin is diabetic.

The illness didn’t occur until late in his ‘job interview’, when during the last exhaustive endurance test he collapsed.

He'd passed all prior medical exams with a clean bill of health, so everyone was baffled. But no agent could have diabetes, they’d be a liability. However, he was exceptional; top of his class in every area – a perfect candidate. No one wanted to send him packing, not this late in the training. Especially not Bors, who’d nominated the unlikely Scottish lad. But what other choice was there…

That was until the original Merlin offered a suggestion. The older woman had taken a shining to the gruff recruit, she saw a spark there that Kingsman needed; he’d be a light in trying times. His intelligence, creativity, and quiet composure were perfect attributes for another role inside the Kingsman fold – her successor.

Young Merlin grabbed the opportunity with both hands and applied himself. He didn't want to go home, not to that place.

But he was heartbroken. When the new Tristan was chosen not weeks later, no amount of kind words, or encouragement from his sympathetic teacher eased the ache.

No one would ever know how many nights he spent crying. Or know the bitterness that raged inside every time Tristan suited up for a mission, apprentice-Merlin handing him his equipment, for the posh-git to shoot him a smug smile before he left.

Though the understanding of diabetes and medicines slowly got better, the time had come and gone for Merlin to be considered for field work. Besides, he’d settled into the role he had trained six years to take over – his mentor retiring with peace of mind when she handed over the reins. She smiled proudly as she passed the clipboard into her young protégé’s capable hands and, with a tear in her eye, put on his custom glasses - her last gift to him.

In that moment, the small, sprightly woman was unable to resist tightly hugging the younger man, like the mum he never had. And Merlin swore he'd do her proud, honour her faith in him, as his own tears blotted a wet pattern on her grey cardigan.

Merlin took pleasure and pride in his position, and knew if not for his gadgetry and back-up the agents would be lost. In fact, there were many times he was required to rescue them - Tristan especially.

But then there was Galahad, Harry Hart, who seemed to take joy in causing mayhem and Merlin undue stress by finishing an undercover assignment early, or just biting the bullet and firing a few of his own, forcing Merlin to go pick him up at the drop of a hand grenade.

And all that blasted fool would offer him in return, no matter what state or position he landed back in the rescue vehicle, was a jovial, split-lipped grin, or out-of-breath laugh, as if his life hadn't hung in the balance not moments before. As if he took enjoyment in disrupting Merlin’s day and giving him a heart attack. As if it was all a joke to get his handler out of the lab and into the field, forcing him to use his skilled hands and intelligent mind for what they were originally trained for...

Harry Hart was a menace. And Merlin loved him for it.

But then, and even now, Merlin doesn’t discuss his disease. What he considers a weakness. His weakness. And anyone who knows better, doesn’t either…

So when his words become sluggish over the radio, Roxy and Eggsy become worried. To which Merlin bristles, “I'm fine, just get your asses to the goddamn checkpoint.”

Galahad and Lancelot board the plane; out of breath, suits pumped full of bullets, but they have the package in hand and it’s just in the nick of time. Except their tired, goofy smiles; reminiscent of an old friend, falter after they catch sight of their handler. Merlin is pale, forehead wet with perspiration, and his usually steady hands trembling, fumbling with his seatbelt. And when he exits his chair, his knees to give out...

Eggsy barely manages to stop his fall.

Roxy jumps forward, taking command of the controls. “What's wrong with him?!”

Cupping Merlin’s clammy face, Eggsy tries to get sense out of the older man, but he isn’t making any. His words are slurred and he's hardly able to lift his arms.

Eggsy has never been more terrified.

The young agent is at a loss. Merlin isn't stroking. He isn't visibly injured. Yet, his heart rate is elevated and his breath is shallow. His skin is pallid, eyes glassy and unable to stay open.

Then a memory returns to him, of his mum’s hand clasping his much smaller one as they wait outside a doctor’s surgery. It runs in the family on his father’s side. This is how his mum and dad met – Lee Unwin flirting shamelessly with the very pretty but no-nonsense nurse who’d cared for his uncle. He remembers his mum explaining diabetes to him when he’d asked, even though the tests returned negative; always curious, always wanting to know more about his father..

Eggsy catches Merlin's rasped word of 'hatch' and he rushes to open the concealed compartment in the cockpit wall. He grabs for the black emergency kit, unzips and finds a syringe of glucagon, confirming his suspicions.

Returning to Merlin’s side, he finds him unconscious. Eggsy doesn't hesitate, just tears the packaging, uncaps the needle, and stabs it into the older man’s right leg. He's seen him rub his thigh before lunch and late in the afternoon a few times, and takes a chance.

“How did I not notice before?!” He berates himself.

Eggsy counts, fingers pressed to Merlin's pulse, and Roxy’s eyes flit between the turbulent skies and the pair on the floor. Time seems to slow and hope fades with every passing second...

_No, no, no..._

Then Merlin’s green eyes slowly blink open.

Roxy lets out a sob and praises every known deity, shifting the jet into high gear to get them home quicker. Meanwhile, Eggsy wraps his arms around the man, his emotion soaking into the comforting warmth of Merlin’s sweater, as well as his curses upon his friend’s stupid secrecy.

Merlin had been in such a hurry to get them out of the shit-storm they'd gotten themselves into; cover blown and trapped in a large underground bunker with a lot of angry terrorists. He hadn’t wasted a second starting the jet, communicated every moment of the flight, guiding and supporting them whilst navigating violent weather.

So focused on their survival, on bringing them home safe, Merlin hadn’t eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry took so long to update, this chapter was a pain to edit. Chap 3 and 4 shouldn't take so long. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Thanks to Slackerpentecost for proofreading, you're a legend. And for letting me use your genius tag - Crouching Scotsman, Hidden badass.


	3. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't snore, but somebody else does...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me soooooooo long to update. 
> 
> Never had so much trouble with a fic, was mostly done months and months ago but kept nit-picking til I was sick of it. However, I can't leave a fic unfinished so pulled myself together and here it is. Still not completely happy and I'm sure there are mistakes but hopefully you guys will still enjoy *fingerscrossed*
> 
> Chapter four in the next few days :)

Chin rested in his palm, Eggsy sits cross-legged with a lopsided grin playing across his lips, entirely amused at Roxy and Merlin cosied-up under his duvet. Though this arrangement isn't new. The three of them sharing a bed had started a few months ago, innocently, offering comfort to one another and a place to rest their weary heads and aching bones after hard days and long missions. A warm body to curl up next to and fend off the cold, the nightmares, and ghosts of the past.

The only thing that had changed was the frequency, slipping under one another’s covers once a week, then two, gradually every other, then only interrupted by missions. And that's why Eggsy isn't in his usual spot cushioned in the middle of the dreaming twosome, having just returned from a rescue op in Paris.

His heart was all a flutter when he'd found their forms cuddled up in his four-poster. It saved him from tiptoeing down the corridor in search of them, and no doubt had been their reasoning knowing he’d be exhausted and wanted to save him the trip. However as Eggsy'd swapped his pinstripe suit for a faded cotton tee; mild giddiness overshadowing his tiredness as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, it finally struck him how familiar this was. His fingers paused and he lifted his gaze over to the two snuggled together, ready and expecting him to slip in beside them, like every night...

Just when had that happened? For the three of them to be happy in sharing their beds? To become, well, sleeping buddies?

Settled upon the covers and drawing his legs absently beneath him, he wondered just that, glancing downward with a thoughtful nibble of his lip to Merlin's serene face. Those chiselled cheekbones softened by the dim light of the bedside lamp and laughter lines smoothed out, and Eggsy supposes the first time he saw Merlin like this was while he was recovering all those months ago.

Rushed to the medical bay as soon as the plane had landed, Roxy and he didn’t leave Merlin's bedside. Not for days. Not for paperwork, not for meetings, not for anything. The doctor tended to each of their individual injuries right there, and if anyone wished to speak with them they knew exactly where to look.

They wouldn’t be moved. They wanted to be there. To be there when Merlin woke up.

And upon waking, groggy in body and mind, the first thing Merlin did see was Eggsy and Roxy; chairs pulled right up to the frame of the bed, heads cradled on their folded elbows, and very much asleep - they couldn't have gotten any closer without being on the bed with him. It produced a weak but profound little smirk from Merlin and settled him back into the pillows, eyes upon his young agents until he returned to dreams, smile still in place.

Two nights passed and Roxy and Eggsy's worries slowly faded as Merlin's face gained colour and his gruff sarcasm and wit returned. For once Eggsy relished in the stern reprimand for not finishing his mission report because it only meant one thing; Merlin was well.

On the final evening, Merlin to be discharged the following morning, Roxy and Eggsy mumbled drowsily as Merlin slept not three feet away, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was to return to his post and the Kingsman table, and they decided he needed looking after a little more, whether he agreed or not. Which he certainly wouldn't being the stubborn Scot that he was. But with Roxy's head upon Eggsy’s shoulder and his resting upon her soft hair, their eyelids drifted closed and wordlessly they agreed to the task.

Eggsy doesn't know when his fingers laced with Roxy's, or hers with Merlin's on the bed but he does know no one let go until the early morning, and only when the nurses came by.

Perhaps though, this whole thing really started when he came down with that horrible cold.

Agents don't get sick. But of course, Eggsy just had to be the exception. And then he just had to share the germs with Roxy because 'sharing is caring' after all. Though she hadn't appreciated the sentiment and punched him for it, then violently sneezed.

Both headachy and lethargic but not deemed serious enough to occupy space in the infirmary, they were prescribed antibiotics and plenty of rest. Except Merlin raised a skeptical eyebrow, not believing for a second the instructions would be followed. He knew his agents all too well; workaholics and antsy when bored.

But as per usual, Merlin procured a solution; sharing a room. They could entertain one another minimising boredom, while insuring bouts of regular cold-induced naps. It also allowed Merlin to check on them easier - to bring soup and medicines, and a never ending supply of tissues, the mountain of Kleenex already high.

And neither of them dared argue with Nursemaid Merlin. His clipboard replaced by a thermometer that he undoubtedly knew how to apply in more ways than its designated purpose. Or so they believed and didn’t want to test the theory to be honest.

That said neither minded the change in abode, it wasn’t unfamiliar territory sharing quarters. It was more Roxy still being peeved at Eggsy for his ‘disease’ sharing, and for punishment she hogged the remote and power over Netflix, despite Merlin telling her to play nice. She'd simply stuck her tongue out in refusal, then sneezed violently once more.

Her anger didn’t last long however. It couldn't upon hearing Eggsy's teeth chatter from across the room, his body shaking from chills. His tossing and turning, duvet rustling, and low whines of being ‘so fucking cold’ tugged on her heartstrings and she took pity, toes leaving the warmth of her blankets to push her single bed across the carpet and up against his. Mattresses joined, she swept her quilt over Eggsy and without a second thought slipped an arm around his shivering body and tucked her knees up behind his, spooning him.

No words exchanged; no protest or sound, just mute acknowledgement, hands warmly clasping together.

Merlin would’ve appreciated some warning though.

After his knock was met with silence, Merlin stepped through the next morning to the sight of tangled limbs and twisted sheets that abruptly halted his legs and nearly spilled orange juice all over the floor. But the momentary panic was dispelled after a secondary glance, spotting the pair with pyjamas fully buttoned and in place, and deeply unconscious. Dead to the world.

Legs unstuck, he placed the tray down on the dresser and checked the contents for spillages. It was nothing extravagant, just cereal, some fruit, and juice, but it's just what they'd needed to get better. It was certainly nothing like the spread they'd delivered to his office two weeks previously as he’d suffered under a mountain of paperwork. He hadn't managed one step toward the kitchen for dinner, time having gotten away from him, and just as his stomach grumbled it's annoyance at the fact a knock and two familiar faces peeped round the door of his supposed-to-be-secret study, smiling. **_"Hungry?"_ **

They'd ended up on the floor; a carpet picnic of sandwiches and nicnacs with freshly brewed tea, and the surrounding scenery of Merlin's wall-to-wall bookcases, and antique furniture.

For all their attempts at subtlety, Merlin knew what they'd been up to lately. As if he wouldn't notice the sudden change of a sandwich here, a coffee there, and the constant hinting towards nap taking. Though that wasn't necessarily new, Eggsy always spoke of naps, and Merlin had caught him a few times too; in his lab, in the dressing rooms, on the jet, and even his office. Eggsy could sleep anywhere and he fairly dribbled while doing so, so much paperwork ruined. And JB had taken after him.

However, having the act encouraged upon him and other doting gestures, normally Merlin would find the behaviour patronising, demeaning - he's been managing his illness for years with no issue, and he doesn't need watching over like an old man. Yet somehow, seeing the effort Roxy and Eggsy make, even if five minutes to check on him, cracking a joke or sitting beside him for company to lift his spirits, Merlin finds with them he doesn't mind so much. Not at all really.

Breakfast tray abandoned on the side, he stood quietly at the edge of the bed in his reverie mind unknowing of the travel performed by his feet. Merlin chuckled at Roxy’s bed hair sticking out in all directions and the line of drool down Eggsy's chin, and barely resisted the urge to snap a picture, especially when Eggsy burrowed further into Roxy's arms like a wee bunny, with a dreamy sigh. And the dimpled little smile at the corner of Eggsy’s mouth reflected back in Merlin's own, because no, he really doesn't mind. Not at all. It's quite nice to be thought of and looked after occasionally. He’d forgotten what that was like.

Like clockwork, Merlin always asked Roxy and Eggsy how they were, if they needed anything, _anything at all_ , webcam window popping up on the television just before lunch. If the conversation then progressed to other things and the trio ended up talking for a few hours while Merlin tinkered in the workshop or signed documents in the tailors, it's because the pair didn't have the opportunity to sit and suggest silly ideas for gadgets in person like usual...

_"But think about it, Merlin - a bra, with laser beams."_

_"If I can teach JB not to poop in my Oxfords, you could def' teach him to pilot a drone."_

...And the documents were downright dull without their banter to keep Merlin awake and amused, right up until the very last boring one was signed, usually late into the evening. Then before dragging his exhausted body away to his cold, empty bed, Merlin would pop in to note their temperatures, stock up their tissues, and plump their pillows. Checking, then double checking they had everything they needed before the long whispers of _goodnights_ and _sweet dreams_ began.

The nurses warned Merlin to be careful, afraid he'd catch their flu, but he never got sick. But he was very tired. Exhausted. His days still so busy managing the technicians, agents, and general running of the Kingsman organisation, as a permanent replacement for Arthur had yet to be selected. At least Percival had begun lending a hand as of Roxy nagging her godfather.

However, every so often Merlin was left with a headache; mind overloaded with too much data, and unable to relax, too wired. He no longer attempted sleep on those nights, knowing it was futile and just returned to the office. No need to waste time staring at the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs when work could be done.

It was on one of those evenings, while Roxy and Eggsy remained bed-ridden, Merlin couldn’t suppress the yawns and rubbed at his temples while he busied about the bedroom. He'd already spoken of the forms waiting for him, and Roxy and Eggsy sighed, bottom lips worried between teeth for their handler and friend. He was spreading himself too thin, and their being sick wasn’t helping. They'd promised to look after him but as of that week, hadn't been able to.

With a shared conspirative glance, the two nodded. Merlin needed a good eight hours, and they knew of at least one weakness to lure him in...

_"Netflix has the new Bond film, Merlin."_

_"It looks well good."_

_"Oh, come on."_

_" **Please."**_

...He didn't stand a chance between James Bond and two scheming Kingsman agents.

Just as Merlin plopped down on the edge of the bed, sighed and pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes, Eggsy 'conveniently' nipped to the bathroom. A good few ‘calculated’ minutes later, he returned and asked Merlin to scooch over a bit, secretly pleased. Merlin's aching muscles had been wooed by the softness of the mattress, long legs enticed to stretch out, and he moved drowsily to accommodate Eggsy without fuss or comment to the centre of the king-size bed - having taken the liberty to move one in as they continually kept sharing two twins.

So trapped in the middle, Roxy one side and Eggsy the other, Merlin had no easy escape. However, he didn't even try. He barely made ten minutes and his eyelids drooped; glasses crooked on his nose and jumper rucked up as centimetre by centimetre he’d slowly slid down the headboard, unable to concentrate on the film any longer. The explosions and plenitude of imaginative gadgets on-screen that he always liked to debate whether could be realistically created, just weren’t enough to keep him conscious. In the past, he'd replicated the flamethrowing bagpipes, and felt a great swell of pride for his heritage when playing them…even if it had set alight to what minimal hair he'd had left. And the Dentonite toothpaste had been a bit too successful, a little volatile. Arthur never did forgive him for blowing up his Aston; doors and all. Though Merlin feels no remorse for the accident now.

However, for all the gadgetry on show in the current Bond, exhaustion and two Kingsmen won out that evening. They giggled smugly, gleeful at a plan well-executed; Eggsy removed Merlin's spectacles to the nightstand and Roxy gentled him further down the bed til Merlin's smooth head sunk deeply into a pillow, and a long exhale of surrendering to the whispers and gentle hands of sleep.

It wasn't long though, not before the land of nod carried Roxy and Eggsy away to, Merlin's steady breathing making lead of their limbs and bringing their ears to his chest and their arms over his waist. And Eggsy smiles dopily at the memory of their very first night napping together, but he sniggers remembering the morning after. Merlin waking to a flood of biblical proportions, his blue military jumper wet with two large puddles of dribble and stuck between the perpetrators. Yet, hadn't shoved them off nor scolded them for their shenanigans. Merlin instead raised a none-too-impressed eyebrow; the one that promised many laps and exercise drills for the next week, to rival the sleepy smiles and soft eyes looking up at him. And lay back in quiet amusement until slowly the world came to the drowsy pair and the wet reality they'd created beneath their cheeks dawned. The mass of saliva jolted their bodies out of Sunday morning bliss to wipe manically at their faces _Eww_ 'ing at the mess, to spot Merlin's soaked sweater and mortified began emphatically apologising. That's when Merlin's silent mirth burst forth, fascade gone, and he belly-laughed until he cried, and only worsened with Roxy and Eggsy playfully hitting him with pillows.

Eggsy's never looked at Merlin's jumper the same way since. But he doesn't look at Merlin the way he used to either; a stick-up-his-arse Scottish bloke with no real care for anyone, just the job and his gadgets. Oh how wrong he'd been.

If anything, Merlin cares the most, he's just so bloody good at hiding it. He bottles all that bothers him. His life and years in Kingsman has built a thick protective shell about the man; one he doesn’t let down easily or allow anyone on the inside. But he feels, he hurts, he suffers, and for so many years alone.

Eggsy knows that now, has seen the tears firsthand and watched Roxy wipe them away.

She'd known. Women always know.

Roxy hadn't witnessed the final fight or the fatal moment Harry Hart's feed went dark, but Merlin and Eggsy had. Saw the man they knew die in front of them unable to do a thing but watch, eyes wide and hearts screaming; Eggsy's nails dug into Harry's chair as the shock set in, while Merlin turned away and hung his head, crushed by the loss.

She never knew the man as well as them, and she never will, but sees how much he meant to the pair, and still does. The way Eggsy smoothes the lapels of his bespoke suit, taking a moment at the mirror as if someone were standing behind him and offering an approving nod, and whenever he's knocked down and at the brink of giving up, broken and bloody, something always seems to take over. A voice apart from Merlin's and hers lifts him from the ground and to his feet. Harry's ghost won't let him quit. _‘A Kingsman doesn't give up, Eggsy. Get up. Get. Up.’_

Merlin regales stories all the time; a glint in his green eyes of mischief and adventure - how Harry beguiled, fought and thwarted so many. But no matter his delight and pride with every tale there's always a flicker of regret towards the end, a sudden reminder those times are past, not present, and there will be no more. And every time she knows what Merlin's doing, what he's thinking to himself.

So come the anniversary of defeating Valentine and saving the world, the same day Eggsy and Roxy became agents, there was no celebration or knees up. For that fateful day also stood for something else, a sobering loss that dampened every spirit in the Kingsman ranks.

Roxy had been patient for the knock to come at her bedroom door late that evening. She’d been mindful that day of the two men's actions and during quiet moments, ready to be there if a crack should show in their armour and brave faces slip. Nothing however, could've prepared her to witness Eggsy stammer over his usually sharp tongue, that could dispense comebacks and antidotes at lightning speed to friends and enemies alike. The banter matches between Merlin and him are equal to that of a grand slam tennis match. Yet standing in her doorway that night, he fidgeted, hesitated, then stuttered out an apology, bottom lip trembling, before he retreated down the corridor to try and hide his fresh tears.

It was too late though and she reached out, caught hold of his shirt and tugged him back to wrap her arms around him. “It’s okay,” she hushed, cheek pressed against him. "It's alright."

Eggsy shook his head and swiped frustrated like a small child at his tears. _Because it’s not fucking okay, it’s not okay at all!_ he screamed internally.

He thought he’d be able to manage. It’s just another night he'd told himself even though it’s been a year. A whole bloody year. Thought he could sit in the house and have a nice dinner with his mum and baby sister, like every Sunday, and be fine. That the house, the study, the clippings wouldn’t bother him because he was over Harry’s death. Over his absence. He'd moved on. _He hadn’t known the man that long anyways, for fuck’s sake. Not really. And yet…_ he’d changed Eggsy’s life so much, given him another path to walk, a better future, and then... he’d left. _He was gone. He wasn't coming back. Just like..._

Roxy hugged him tighter, made her presence felt. She was there and wasn’t going to leave him. Not like Harry. Not like his dad. She held fast, held tight until Eggsy began to shake with the ache of it all, of all the pain, and with a sob turned in the embrace. His fingers fisted in her nightshirt and clung on for dear life, for something real to ground him and hold onto, for in his dreams Harry always slipped away and his dad never came home.

Merlin’s timid knock came with no words or tears, only silence. He was pale, eyes but grey shadows behind his glasses, and too fragile to even whisper if he could come in. That frightened Roxy more than anything, even if he didn't need to ask or explain himself. She'd been waiting and hoping that he'd at least find the courage to get this far, so she could take the lead and silently clasp his hand in hers, and with an encouraging squeeze of his knuckles lessen his burden, his loneliness.

But he didn't follow her steps over the threshold. He didn’t budge.

Merlin's composure had started to crumble. The wordless touch of her hand and all that it conveyed was too much, the understanding much more than he deserved…

The last bloody image of Harry had haunted him. Of Harry being shot and him powerless and absolutely useless to stop it. This time Merlin didn’t get to hear him laugh over the comm, breathless and giddy, telling Merlin not to be such a worry wart. Or see Harry return home with a few cuts and bruises and that familiar grin riding high on his handsome features, triumphant once more.

Every time in the past he'd been there to save him and Harry'd have another story to tell, but this time he'd let Galahad down. This time Harry hadn't come home. He'd failed his agent, his best friend...

"I failed Harry," Merlin's voice cracked. "I should've been there to protect him..." he choked and cast his eyes down in shame. “He'd still be here."

"Oh Merlin." Roxy pulled his body to hers, balanced on the balls of her feet to reach and lay her arms to his shoulders, feeling them shake as if the man was coming apart under a heavy weight.

He bended to her lithe frame like a willow in the wind but didn't allow himself to return the affection; hands clenching and unclenching at his sides to stop them trembling. He didn't deserve the sympathy. He'd failed.

“It’s not your fault." Roxy cupped his face and gazed at him so earnest. "You hear me, Merlin? Harry wouldn’t blame you, you know he wouldn’t. Please don't blame yourself.”

Merlin didn't believe it, he couldn’t accept the truth. It was his duty to protect his agents. His friends. His family. The only family he's ever really had. He lost Lancelot, dear James, and then Harry, and all in the space of several months... He let them down...Maybe, maybe he wasn't fit for his position anymore?... How long before he lost another?... Before he lost...

"Merlin..." Roxy called to him, tried to coax him from the devastating thoughts, the one's she'd seen flicker across his face before. "Merlin!" She wouldn't tolerate them anymore. "Enough." She wouldn’t allow Merlin to beat himself up and over something that's ultimately out of his hands. He can only do so much, and by god does he do his utmost; he trains them, equips them, and guards them best he can. He’d nearly died trying to rescue Eggsy and her not months ago, putting them first above his own needs.

Jaw cradled in her palms, the pads of her thumbs wiped away the dampness of his silent tears and she replaced every one with a gentle kiss on each cheek. "It wasn't your fault."

Eggsy had appeared then behind them in Roxy’s door frame. The shift in light opened Merlin's grey eyes to Eggsy's puffy ones, still a little red-rimmed even though Roxy’d dried his tears and settled him down. No hitches in his breathing or emotional hiccups left. Calm enough for Eggsy to stand and say in that moment, no waver in his voice, “She’s right, Merlin.”

And the final wall collapsed.

Merlin's pent-up grief spilled over and Eggsy and Roxy's arms anchored around his waist, and with a sob he hugged them back. He placed kisses atop their heads as their faces nuzzled his chest, holding them so close and rocking them. Every sway lessened the ache in his heart, uncoiled the hurt and loneliness, but their hold on him didn’t.

They barely separated, remained an unbroken chain; palms cupped and fingers linked, even as they cuddled-up in Roxy’s bed. Eggsy fell asleep in the middle, grip curled lightly into Merlin's grey tee and the press of Roxy's nose to the juncture of his shoulder, while the warmth of Merlin and Roxy's threaded fingers fitted over the curve of his hip.

The trio wandered the halls to one another’s quarters from that evening. Seeking one another out became a habit; second nature, a prerequisite for a goodnights sleep, and was easy to do. Unlike other agents, and just like Merlin, Roxy had taken up residence in the mansion instead of a home of her own. She loved the silence of the estate in the mornings, only the chirping birds and Bo's snuffling at the foot of her bed: no blaring car horns and the bustling hubbub of London city. She liked the East Wing; her bedroom window gazed out over the gardens and the sun rose to wake her, and the moon and stars were always so clear at night she could paint them from memory on her balcony.

The peace and quiet didn't change when her feet padded down the corridors for breakfast; no one ever arrived to the mansion before seven unless under emergency protocol. The only person she'd ever bumped into was Merlin, still soft from sleep and barefoot; glasses resting on his forehead, pyjamas rumpled, and an empty mug in hand ready for caffeine.

It was before the bed-sharing began, before she knew what it was to wake up next to him; no glasses, no frown of concentration, nothing of the stress and years of the job painted upon his features. Just the man. Just Merlin. But even there in the hallway the moment had felt personal, a little intimate, especially after he spotted her and ducked his head a little sheepish, dropping his frames onto his nose as if to hide behind them.

However, meeting in the hallway became so recurrent it became ritual, the pair strolling to the kitchen in their pyjamas side by side; comfortably silent, paces falling into rhythm. Every morning as the sun streamed onto the black marble counters, they'd prepare breakfast together, fetching pans, passing ingredients, moving about each other like a dance. And by Roxy's eager request, Merlin would frequently rustle up the most perfect eggs she’d ever tasted while she popped in the toast and set the coffee brewing.

Eggsy’d acquired Harry’s beautiful home but his mum and Daisy were the full-time occupants. He knows his mentor would be glad a youngster was running around the place, enjoying all the space to play, especially as his little sister had a knack for learning new places to hide, and sneak up on mum and him. She was good. _Really good._ Eggsy did wonder if the time came...

They’d made the house their own without altering too much - his mum having fallen in love with the place just as it was. And without a word from him, promised she wouldn’t touch the study. Even if Eggsy never discussed the room Michelle knew it meant something to her son. He always spent an hour or so with the odd and seemingly random newspaper clippings every time he visited, and swore she heard him chatting away in there sometimes. And the way his hand would fondly close around the handle and whisper a wistful goodnight, well she recognised the emotion; the sentimentality of things after losing someone.

However, despite his mum and sister, the townhouse doesn’t feel like home to Eggsy. Maybe because he knew who it once belonged to, his mentor, his friend, a man he still misses every day. Or maybe because in the mansion he has no secrets to hide or keep - it’s a part of the life he now leads. He can be himself and be close to those who understand - Kingsman HQ is home.

Eggsy knows where to find Roxy at odd hours when off-duty, training downstairs, or on her balcony sketching. He's sat more than a few times for her on lazy afternoons, studying her studying him, and amused at the little crease that appears above her left eyebrow when she’s deep in concentration, so singularly focused using a pencil or paintbrush.

He usually finds Merlin reading in the library - a fondness for fantasy novels, especially Pratchett. He sometimes reads aloud when Eggsy and Roxy join him, cuddling up on the adjacent sofa by the fireplace and listen, enthralled as his Scottish burr vanishes to fit the characters of the book. One more of his many talents revealed.

He thinks JB prefers it too. He has Bo to play with, giving Roxy’s black poodle the run around most days, and is content to sit at Merlin’s feet whenever he's off on a mission. And though Merlin would never admit to it, Eggsy swears the man has become smitten with the small dog. Or at least if the pug's waistline is any indication because he's getting rounder by the day and due to no fault of his. But the pug is happy, and Eggsy finds for the first time in a long while, so is he…

Merlin rolls over with a sleepy mumble and the springs of the bed shift and interrupt Eggsy's thoughts, drawing him back to the present as the older man's arm stretches out over the spot where his male sleeping buddy should be. A deep line furrows Merlin's forehead at the sheets being vacant; even in dreams noting Eggsy’s absence and that he should be home by now, where is he?…

Worry and stiffness sets into Merlin's body, panic seizing him unconsciously but he'd quickly be awake, until familiar fingers gently link with his and caress from thumb to wrist, over the pulse point, and Eggsy watches with a knowing smile as Merlin visibly sinks back into the mattress, relaxing once more. And just before Roxy’s forearm drapes over the older man's middle as she turns over, her cheek smooshing up against his cotton-clad shoulders, and in that second the tranquil peace of the bedroom is ended by a chorus of throaty snores.

Eggsy's palm muffles his snort, shooting to cover his mouth. It doesn't matter how many times or how familiar the sound now is, he still can’t help but find her late-night warbles funny. It had been such a shock. In the dormitory during training, for all those months he hadn't heard a peep from her but now in their company she snoozes freely, unabashedly.

Merlin sleeps through the racket without a twitch. Though the first time had startled awake, shot up ready to defend, hands raised and poised for action to protect his young wards laying beside him...only to find no one. There was no intruder. It was just Roxy open-mouthed to his right and rumbling loud enough to wake the dead. Now however, he cuddles her arm closer to his waist and both sigh happily.

Warmth settles in Eggsy's chest at the sight, and decides he doesn't quite mind how they got there as he slips beneath the sheets and snuggles in, welcomed into Merlin and Roxy’s sleepy embrace, arms stretching to cuddle him close. And as he shuts his eyes to the world, til it’s only the ruffle of Merlin’s breath in his hair and the caress of Roxy’s hand in his, secretly hopes that this won't change.

Eggsy falling asleep hoping that the three of them can stay just like this, just the way they are.


	4. The Love of Three - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not possible for three people to love one another. Not equally. Not without drama, fighting, and someone getting hurt. It's a myth.
> 
> Or so Eggsy believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been shitty that's all I can say for how long it's been. Almost a year. Jesus!
> 
> I expect if you jump straight back into this it will feel a lil disjointed, but this was always how it was gonna end haha. I apologise for any mistakes but I can't keep fretting over it any longer.
> 
> If you don't want epic smuttery and want it to remain platonic and cute, don't read any further... There be porn!

Love triangles and ménage a trois are for young adults novels and trashy romances. The idea of being able to share and be shared without drama and tears, without suspicion and distrust isn't possible. They don't work in real life...

So this shouldn't feel as natural or as right as it does, the hot and heavy weight of Merlin leaning against him, head cradled in the nook of his shoulder. The pale length of his throat bared and asking mutely for the tender suction of Eggsy's lips and sharp bite of his teeth, while hips rise eagerly seeking the tightness of fingers circled snugly around his shaft.

Roxy teases the slit and Merlin's cock weeps in her grip; arching his back and lungs filling with a shuddering breath. His thighs spread involuntarily, wantonly, and force Roxy's knees to stretch wider over his lap to ride the wave. The toned line of her legs tense and work to also bracket Eggsy's from calve to ankle, to keep Merlin in place and at their mercy.

Twisting her fist upward draws out gutteral moans that Merlin has lost the will to fight, to bite his lip and smother. And for every thick Scottish rumble Eggsy's lips tingle, now reddish and swollen from laving stubbled skin and a bobbing Adam's apple, scraping his teeth and sucking at the delicate column. So while Roxy uses her hand and calculated pressure, Eggsy bares his teeth and whispers, breath ghosting hot to bring the older man closer to the edge in his own cruel way.

But the pair is working in tandem, every action towards the same goal - to undo Merlin.

It had been a long, stressful thirty-six hours. Two missions going tits up and Merlin forced to take over and save Percival and Ector from untimely demises. Except when all was over; both agents safely extracted on opposite sides of the globe and on their way home, Merlin didn't stop. He wouldn't stop. _"Incident reports need writing up and filing... Investigations into the cock-ups... Cover stories need creating…”_ The list went on.

Merlin wouldn't leave the office, only to make more tea and grab more biscuits keeping his blood-sugar up. And that's where they caught him, intersected him in the hall at two am - fast talking, fast walking...

_“A nap, Merlin.”_

_“Ten minutes, Merlin.”_

_“You can spare that.”_

_“We’ll wake you up.”_

**"Promise."**

Between their double teaming of persuasion and confuddling got Merlin to his quarters. They couldn't allow him respite to think. The man got ideas, saw too much reason when he was given time. Their hands acted before he could, started undressing him, needing to keep him distracted. One behind and one in front, pulling and tugging Merlin towards his bed; glasses off, shoes off, and so focused on their mission stripped him of his sweater and moved on to his tie. Merlin was too overwhelmed by their conjoined efforts to put up an effective fight or debate, not getting a word out, until it was too late...

Shirt undone to the last hole, button slipping free, Roxy paused, mind finally catching up with what she'd done... onto the sight of Merlin's chest...

_He's always worn a shirt to bed...Never seen him this naked...This bare…_

Never seen the dark trail of hair leading down and disappearing passed his belt, nor the toned planes of his stomach. Small ridges of defined muscle that understate Merlin's strength and beckon her fingertips to reach out, overwhelmed in their desire to feel, to explore, to run a fingertip down…

To instead part cotton further, brush the material aside with the back of her hand wanting a better view, to see more, unveiling his upper body all the way to the curves of his shoulders. The wealth of new skin draws her curious eyes and map a path her hands unconsciously travel, ghosting up through the smattering of grey curls to fan out over his chest, heat seeping into her palms.

The touch is like a hot spark of a match and Merlin's pulse drums a steadily increasing beat, his lungs stutter into the contact and he swallows dryly. His heart's rapid rhythm and hitch of breath lifts Roxy's chin to find him staring down at her, watching her. His usually unreadable, guarded green eyes are a dark storm of emotions; of surprise, of uncertainty… an ember of lust...

Eggsy had slowly come to a halt folding Merlin's jumper, hands forgetting how to work and about the fabric entirely at Roxy's exploration. But the kiss is what threw him completely. He was unable to look away when their mouths touched softly, a hesitant glide of lips with Roxy on her toes and Merlin instinctly meeting her halfway. Eggsy could only swallow thickly; the bedroom, the walls, the world vanishing around him til only Roxy and Merlin remained...

Roxy stole another inch then, a little more confident having not been rejected and ever more curious by the second, sliding a hand up Merlin's veined forearm to firm bicep, fingertips acquainting to the hidden muscles underneath cotton with a experimental squeeze. A little moan bubbled up in her throat, and a voice in her head cried scandal as to why Merlin hid them away? And why did he still have a shirt on? Oh why hadn't she removed it, for christ’s sake?!

Further complaints were silenced however upon capturing Merlin's lips fully in a slow press, her body overriding and seizing the moment. The line of their mouths sealed with a tilt of her head, and an instinctive palm to the nape of his neck to draw him closer. A dizzying exhale rushed from her nose at how he bended so willingly. Her wordless command met with no resistance or hesitance, Merlin just swayed and let her take the lead, so trusting, so pliant...

Only for the contact to be broken and a gasp to escape her lips at Merlin's hands sudden but delicate beneath her top, desperate to touch from the base of her stomach to her ribcage. He noted every tremor until he cupped her sides just underneath the hem of her bra, then drifted down the slope of her waist groaning in his throat, gravel rough, at the soft but strong curve all the way to her hipbones...

From a match bursts a flame. Both grab for one another, all caution thrown to the corner-shadows of the bedroom. Roxy dragged Merlin to meet her eager mouth, plunging her tongue along side his and he swallowed eagerly; a groan rattling bone deep and biting his nails into her hips. Those strong hands finding possessive purchase and not leaving an inch so to rock her pelvis against his, and with the hard line of his burgeoning arousal drive Roxy into a mild scramble, arms looping tight round his neck, dipping them both lower into muffled moans.

Eggsy could only swallow thickly as he tried to ignore the pang in his heart and the rush of blood downward at the display. He looked guiltily to the floor, but he could still hear their heated breaths. He should go. He wasn’t needed. Unwanted. Forgotten. He had to go, get out the way, leave them to it, and so slipped away towards the door.

For Merlin to grab him and drag him in by his shirt collar.

There was nothing Eggsy could've done but melt into the embrace, surrender and shiver at the already kiss-swollen lips laying claim to his. He was lost in that moment, struck by it, and feet cemented when Roxy trapped him in the middle, her body moulding behind him. Until she nibbled at his ear to garner his attention, to coo deliciously reminding him of the original task in hand, in their very hands... _of getting Merlin into bed_...

Eggsy trails a feather-light line through the thin layer of sweat of Merlin's chest and abdomen, descending to link with Roxy’s around the man's cock. Copious amounts of precome already aid the slick journey from base to tip, yet all three gaze enraptured as drumming up the throbbing vein on the underside produces an even more impossible amount, built up and overdue.

Eggsy purrs, teeth rasping the shell of an ear. “How long has it been, Merlin? How long?” 

Merlin squirms and throws his head back over Eggsy's shoulder, mouth open but wordless in his reply, half shame, half delirious, as pearly fluid pools and overflows to web joined knuckles. An answer in itself. He shares a bed with them. There’s never time. Never five minutes to spare. Never a moment to…

Roxy leans forward, lips brushing softly the curve of his ear to whisper low, “It’s a good thing we’re here to take care of you.” And Eggsy hums in agreement, pinching sensitive skin between teeth.

Merlin's moans are incoherent as he bucks up, only _Yes_ and the interchanging of their names are clear as he writhes; rutting upward, unable to do much but surrender and give in. His arms are bound at the elbows by his shirt, the only piece of clothing they saw fit to leave him in, trapping him, the material caught beneath his firm ass. His rocking to and fro between Roxy and Eggsy pulling it tighter, drawn taut over his forearms so he can only reach far enough to cup behind Roxy's knees, tugging and squeezing at every ministration and filthy word they gift him.

He's ensnared and helpless. Caught in the middle and exposed. It's a sweet torture.

The hardness and heat of Eggsy's erection sears like a brand with every grind against Merlin's lower back, a reminder of his own desperate need but not wanting to spill just yet. Denying himself for just a little bit longer. But the sight of wetness glistening off Roxy's inner thighs; her skirt hiked up by her wrist, fingers sinking in and out of her moist folds in time with his canting hips, almost as if she were riding him... Merlin's whole body racks with a shiver imagining her slick heat surrounding him, of her inner walls holding him tight, and it's almost enough to finish him, so very nearly that he cries out in need of it with a hoarse, "Please!"

Roxy catches his pointed gaze between her thighs and clenches making sure he feels the taut pull her legs against his, clutching herself for a few seconds longer and surrendering a little whimper of his name, just under her breath but just enough to reach his ears. The pulse of his cock jumps under her palm and she knows what he’s thinking, wanting, and grins…

For Eggsy to give the heated wish a voice, speaking the very lustful desire to be ridden as if he'd been peeping through a window into the man-in-his-lap's filthy thoughts. And for hands to act out the pressure, the tight clench, hot and wet with his slick… and, and, Merlin is done. Legs parting further, he thrusts up into the tight fists surrounding him and can't hold back, can't stop, giving in.

Roxy is forced to clamp down, brace her weight less she topple, and watches hypnotised, eyes transfixed as Merlin comes and comes, bared naked and open and raw, all over her and Eggsy’s hands. Hot ropes over his chest and belly, and with the most guttural shout she feels it rumble through her own body and shakes with it.

It's only when his moans become broken, his flesh spent and oversensitive, and slumps back onto Eggsy, does Roxy removes her fingers. She licks her lips at the stickiness, bringing them close with every intention of licking them clean. For Eggsy to whine in protest. She pauses and raises an eyebrow, focus shifting to the younger man behind Merlin's collapsed form, and grins.

Over Merlin's shoulder, Roxy offers her index and middle finger to Eggsy’s waiting mouth, the digits sliding wet over his tongue and he moans at the bitter, unmistakable taste. Roxy mirrors him, grasping his wrist to suckle on each finger, unconsciously leaning further forward in her enjoyment, changing the angle and pressure of the hand still curled inside, reminding her with a muffled keen...

Eggsy ruts into the hard nub of Merlin's tailbone, gasping hot and frantic for release, Roxy the same as she rides her own wave of rising ecstasy atop Merlin's lap, moans getting louder in their frenzied chase to reach their peaks. Until they crest and bite down on flesh, crashing harder at the sharp twist of pain, knuckles caught between teeth.

Roxy collapses forward onto Merlin with a whimper, trapping him firmly against Eggsy’s heaving chest. In the middle of their two wavering bodies Merlin knows every labored breath and pound of their hearts in the afterglow, mirroring his own.

But it’s not over, not quite, when their lips kiss tenderly, one to each side tasting his skin - a test to see if they’ve succeeded, if Merlin's really done. The tip of Roxy’s tongue dipping in the hollow of Merlin’s collarbone savouring the fevered flavour, and up to the crook of his throat where Eggsy has never deemed to leave, only lavish more attention upon the marks he’s branded Merlin with.

Merlin gasps but his body doesn't rise, he hasn’t the strength, so wrung out, and Roxy and Eggsy's lips curl triumphant.

He’s nearly asleep by the time they gather enough breath and energy to clean him up and then themselves. Merlin is thoroughly and perfectly wrecked, too worn out to even move a muscle when they fold around him for the night, to drift off in his arms satisfied, still riding high off endorphins.

                 The rays of the morning sun bathes the bedroom in a yellow hue that warms Roxy’s back and flutters her eyes open to meet Eggsy's. He’s only just woken himself, brain still adjusting, not quite comprehending the difference in this situation from the norm. Until noticing the empty space between them, the sheets empty where Merlin should be... and the night’s delectations slowly dawning on their sleep fogged minds. The pair can only conjure silence, no words forthcoming in the awkward morning aftermath, only explicit images and lustful snippets returning in a sped-up montage.

Roxy is the first to move, gathering her wits and top from the lampshade but upon standing her legs waver, a little stiff, a little strained, reminding Eggsy of her thighs over Merlin’s lap...of her hands...fingers sliding over rigid flesh…fingers against his tongue…the taste of Merlin...

But neither speaks a word.

Roxy escapes for the sanctuary of her own room. For a hot shower. Retreating against the tiles, head in her hands trying not to panic as the water washes away the night and eases the ache in her legs. Though they tremble still.

Minutes later, Eggsy shifts from beneath the sheets and pulls on his shirt and jeans in a daze, like moving through molasses. The warmth from the night and in Merlin's bed is gone with the click of the lock behind him. 

                     Three days pass, and for once the world doesn't need saving. Not at all. Eggsy despairs having nothing to distract him. Nothing pulls his mind from what happened. Keeps thoughts of Roxy and Merlin at bay for very long. The daylight hours drag at a snail's pace, but nothing compared to the long and lonely nights where he doesn't sleep. Can't sleep.

He's not brave enough, not sure enough to go seeking like only four nights ago. The innocence has been ruined. But that's where he's confused, scared even, not knowing whether he wants that innocence back, not trusting himself if either Roxy or Merlin were to let him in their beds again, if he'd be able to resist reaching out...

A knock at the door jolts him from his thoughts, twisting his head to the alarm clock and reading One AM. It's a familiar time these last few nights. Eggsy breathes deep, once, twice, to calm his racing heart, and again before he twists the handle...

There stands Roxy; a familiar sight, a welcome sight, but not of the last three days. It feels like years. He's missed her so much.

Her face is confident but her hands are pulling at her sleeves. "Hi."

"Hi," he smiles, more awkwardly than he intended, then opens the door a little wider.

Roxy steps inside and leans against the wall keeping a cautious distance. It's no more than a stride but seems bigger to Eggsy, as if she doesn’t feel safe with him anymore. His heart aches.

They look at each other for the longest time, half hidden in shadow and trying to gauge one another with the bedside lamp the only source of light.

Until Roxy breaks the silence. She has to know.

"Did we make a mistake?" She hasn't slept since that night, only fitful bouts and with an aching in her chest that won't fade. "Do, do you regret it?" And as soon as the stammer has left her lips she hugs herself.

Eggsy's chest clenches. He's only ever heard her voice tremor like that once, during training, before they jumped out the plane revealing her fear of heights, fear of falling...

"No, Rox. You could never be a mistake."

His back hits the wall by the strength of her body, pressing to him from toes to chest wilful and needy, but the weight of her kiss is heavier, finally claiming after days of wanting and worry. Eggsy moans under the onslaught; under the longing, his mouth already drunk on the prowess of hers, slipping his fingertips into her soft blonde locks, needing her close, starved and hungry. 

Roxy nibbles at the corner of his mouth as he lifts her clear off the ground, her calves hitching round his waist, and Eggsy carries her to the bed to truly prove the worth of his statement.

Eggsy catches sight of Merlin the following afternoon for the first time since that night, crossing paths on his way to the underground shuttle. From the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles in his jumper, and sporting an uncharacteristic multiple days worth of stubble, it doesn’t take a genius to conclude Merlin hasn't slept or had much priority towards his appearance. But whether that's because of what happened or the stack of files under his arm, Eggsy doesn't know.

He draws nearer and averts his gaze, afraid to lock eyes, and stares straight ahead at the waiting doors that Percival and Merlin just emerged from. Yet Eggsy's resolve weakens with every step closer, with every echo of Merlin’s familiar gait, focus drifting to those long, lean legs. He can't stop the images, remembering the banded muscle of Merlin's thighs racking tight and the rocking of his hips. Of his thick accent drowned even further in lust, panting and pleading to be touched...

A 'Good afternoon' from Percival snaps Eggsy back to the present and he mimics the gesture, nodding his head and catches Percy's eyes warmly, but skips Merlin's, diverting last second. He just can't, so scared of what he'll see. Or worse, nothing.

Eggsy misses him. Misses Merlin's solid body against his own late at night, chest pressed up behind him and hand cupped over his hip with Roxy’s, or idle and warm on his stomach. An itch has grown under his skin by the day, one even Roxy can’t fully scratch. And Eggsy knows it’s the same for her. They’ve discussed it; sated and sweat cooling, staring up at the ceiling and agreeing something was missing. Merlin was missing.

Eggsy’s going mad at the loss. Merlin is shut off and guarded the way he was before, all business and professional. At table meetings and mission debriefs there is not a flicker of the warmth or attachment he's grown used to. He hadn't truly noticed or realised the significance and frequency of Merlin's glances, the shared jokes and the little smiles aimed at Rox and him, and now they're gone. Vanished. And Eggsy is left bereft after every encounter, a coldness settling heavier in his belly.

He thought maybe it wasn't just regret. Wasn't just Merlin pushing him and Roxy away because what happened was wrong, was a mistake, and the damage irreparable. Instead, something else… denial. For when Eggsy collapsed onto his usual seat on the jet, lungs heaving to catch his breath but difficult with adrenaline fuelling his desire to laugh, there was a moment, a flicker.

The reconnaissance had been a success, all information obtained to help Ector's investigation into a group's attempt at uranium smuggling. He'd almost been caught however, so very nearly, needing to dive into a crate of polystyrene balls very ungracefully, very un-Kingsman-like. But sat back on the plane safe and with the building's schematics mapped, Eggsy couldn't refrain from chuckling at the few white cubes still attached to his person, and the rich echo of Merlin's own amusement only sweetened the moment. He found the older man gazing at him warmly, affectionately, green eyes lit up like before, like only a couple of weeks ago. Watch him rise from the desk and monitors, and stride over to lay a hand on his shoulder, still looking at him, still fond, still smiling; dimples showing... 

For that hand to hesitate, fingers falter to a shaky stop not a hairsbreadth away, and curl into his palm.

That relieved affection staring down at Eggsy disappeared to only recognition. "Well done, Galahad." It's his codename and they'd been working. It had been appropriate. But the formality faded any momentary joy, any closeness, and stole it all away with Merlin's footsteps towards the cockpit, where he remained entirely for the rest of the flight home, abandoning Eggsy to his misery and the minibar.

It's been twenty one days of detachment. Three weeks of no discussion or broaching the topic, simply left abandoned and ignored, and that's how Eggsy feels, especially as Roxy is away. Merlin's distance has grown, and it finally starts to show, starts to take a toll on Eggsy.

He screws up so many times during the routine training drill, Merlin tells him to stay behind, unhappy with his performance. Even Bors spares him a pat on the back and wishes him luck, the older agent the last to leave, and Eggsy almost begged him not to. 

Merlin's disappointment echoes in the empty auditorium, listing Eggsy's failures like a rap-sheet of crimes against the state. However, mainly consisted of him being too slow and not reacting quick enough. That he seems _distracted._

Eggsy grinds his teeth, jaw setting into a hard line...Distracted. _Distracted!_ The repressed coil in his belly snaps. The frustration in his blood boils over. He steps up to Merlin, right into his personal space, and dares the older man with a challenging stare up and down, sizing him up. 

All for Merlin to tilt his head in response, gaze unflinching and bodes Eggsy's display with silent caution. _‘If you have something to say, say it.’_

They've been here before. Eggsy’s fists clench at his sides remembering that day, of jumping from the plane and the rage of thinking he was expendable, and then that smug git's response.

But this is entirely different.

Yes, he has a problem and definitely has something to say to the asshole in front of him. But he's not going to give Merlin the pleasure of being quiet about it. He's not going to whisper, oh no, he's gonna scream bloody murder. Gonna scream and curse at him. _He’s the fucking reason! He’s the fucking distraction! Gonna grab his sweater with both hands and mess it up, dirty it up, and wipe that goddamn look off the Scottish bastard’s face like he'd done…_

Except he's not quick enough.

The clipboard clatters to the blue exercise mat and Merlin has him pinned up against the wall in a crash of force, a hand to grip Eggsy's neck and the other hard on his hip, and his mouth offers the final onslaught, the final leverage, sealed over Eggsy’s. He feasts like a starved man, consuming until stars start to pop in the black of his closed vision and his lungs are burning for air, but Merlin doesn’t care.

Eggsy keens at the need for oxygen and breaks them apart with a heady gasp, but instantly wants Merlin devouring him again. Tilts his jaw and leans up wantonly to slot their lips together once more, hot and wet, rough and biting. Or intends to, until a muscled thigh is pressed between his legs and strips him in an instant of anymore independent thought and modesty, choking on a cry. He all but buries his face and ruts, hands automatic in seizing stability, his fingers buried knuckle-white in Merlin's pullover to steady himself, and he tugs it roughly out of place, hearing a stitch snap and rip. He can at least have that consolation prize.

He doesn’t give a shit for dignity. Nor a care for the sounds he's making, or the way he must look writhing and grinding upon the leg between his with Merlin's frame crowding him against the gym wall. He’s raw with need and so desperate. It's been days without Roxy, and Merlin's never...he's never... “Merlin, please?”

“Please what, Eggsy?” Oh and if that baritone isn’t cruel but giving at the same time. Oh how he’s missed it, shooting straight to his cock with a hard throb and his head hits the wall behind.

Eyes half-lidded, and with gasped words, “Please Merlin, please touch…” To stop. A mark peeks out from beneath Merlin's shirt collar; faint, very nearly gone, but still there.

It's too late to bite back his little whine at the sight. Memories return of bruising that pale throat when he tipped over the edge, shuddered and rocked through his release against Merlin’s body, spilling in his boxers. Feeling so dirty, yet so good for it. He wants that again. Needs that again.

Merlin groans darkly because he knows Eggsy's seen it, the one of many he's spent the last three weeks trying to hide and ignore. He licks his lips before nipping at Eggsy's bottom one, already plump and redden from attention, and wanting more if the tremor is anything to go by. And Merlin's more than willing to give, suffering the same problem, from the same delirious itch. Ever since waking that morning; shock shifting him from the bed and out the door, his mind has been a mess of emotions and questions. He’s been deprived of a moment's peace; let alone sleep, but denying the two answers.

It shouldn't have happened. He got too close. He's their superior. They rely on him, he's responsible for them. He's meant to know better, to be able to stop and stop them, to say no... but he gave in. They're his weakness. One he didn't know how deep until they stripped him bare in every way and he only wanted more. Still wants more.

Each day Merlin's craved to touch, to taste, wanting so badly to have Roxy and Eggsy in his bed, though he hasn't slept in it since. Despite changing the sheets and flipping the mattress their voices and touches seemed to curl up from the springs and reach about him. Ghosts over his skin but alive enough to heat his blood and make his body ache, no matter how tired. He's denied himself pleasure though, to handle the ache, punishment in scalding himself hot and cold with water, and his office chair numbs him with other pains.

If Merlin started he knew he wouldn't stop. He only just caught himself short of grasping Eggsy on the plane, even such an innocent gesture wouldn't have ended there, only destroy the walls he built day by day, brick by brick. He hadn't expected Eggsy's crestfallen expression as he'd faltered and said his codename. It had hit him like a punch to the gut, left him winded like no blow ever has, and dislodged the new foundations he'd laid. That should've been enough, enough to foretell that he'd end up here all the same. That it's been a futile effort to resist and keep a safe distance.

To have that night again still burns hot, the desire hasn't waned to lie beside them, press close and want their hands on him. The surviving evidence has slowly faded and Merlin's hope along with them but he still wants nothing more than their lips and teeth to reclaim him, to take from him...

"I'll start buying turtlenecks," he whispers. A hope, a wish in four words, and captures Eggsy's mouth once more. It's the closest he'll come to confessing, to giving Eggsy permission. And pleads the boy will hear it, will read between the lines.

When the top three buttons of his shirt shoot off, collar tearing in the grip of eager hands, and that wonderful mouth he'd missed so much latches on to refresh the marks, Merlin grinds his hips into Eggsy’s. _Finally, finally._ And let's his right hand wander down to play over straining cotton, cup the hard and eager length beneath in a good squeeze as reward and hear Eggsy’s long whine of affirmation loud and clear.

The glow from his phone steals Eggsy's attention from the gun sight - 'I need you.' He doesn't wait, abandons the firing range for the elevator. And nor does he knock upon reaching familiar quarters, just walks in, the door already ajar, and finds Roxy on the edge of the bed… between Merlin’s thighs. Her small frame relaxed and cradled in his arms, sleeves rolled to the elbows, lips leaving lingering kisses on her naked shoulders; one freshly bandaged. It's intimate; every caress of Merlin's lips more than a comfort but an confirmation. That she's not only out of harm’s way but there in his arms, and wants to be...

Alerted by a technician once his meeting with Bors had concluded - the extraction had been successful but Lancelot had sustained injury. Merlin's blood had run cold, gut twisting, and he rushed straight from the tailors and straight to her.

The doctor and nurses had patched her up and given her medication, then the all-clear to sleep in her own bed if she wished. Roxy hadn't hesitated. But she didn't want to be alone, and was brave enough to admit it. Wanted to curl up and feel safe in someone's arms. Be secure.

The painkillers had taken their effect numbing the ache of the shoulder wound but could offer nothing to help the harsh thud of Roxy's heart when Merlin, not Eggsy, stood in the doorway with concern etched so plainly across his face.

"I'm fine, Merlin." Spoken as he approached and reached out carefully, the back of his hand gracing gently over the scratch on her cheek. It was minor, didn't even require a stitch, but the way Merlin cast his gaze upon it, then cupped her face and kissed her forehead had Roxy repeating herself. "Really, I, I'm fine." The tremble betraying her.

It's the tenderness, his silent display of yearning; lips travelling from her eyelids, to each cheek, to her neck and then to her shoulder, that has her shaking in the gentle hold of his forearm. So careful not to hurt her. It's delicate rapture. And with every kiss placed with such reverence he lowered Roxy in a slow, wordless dance to settle against him on the bed.

Merlin's lips never left her, continued their worship and began his apologies for being absent, for being a coward, until his stubbled jaw was held in her palm and she tilted back to claim his mouth with hers, to hush his sorry’s…

"Eggsy. Come here." Roxy's quiet command dispels the silence and disappeared Eggsy's nervousness. To shuffle his feet away from the door and to sit down, mattress bowing.

He can't think of anything to say, nothing would be enough to show how happy he is she's home and safe, so reaches for her hand instead. Laces their fingers where they rest over Merlin's knee, and she smiles at him, relieved.

Said knee comes to bump against Eggsy's and he pushes back; a shy display that means so much, and drops his head to rest on a warm woollen jumper.

“We'll take it day by day,” Merlin's measured voice soothing, but it’s the disguised sentiment that strikes Roxy and Eggsy the same. Merlin silently confessing that even he's a little scared - in uncharted waters, but wants this, wants to try.

Eggsy hums his agreement and Merlin presses a gentle kiss atop his head, then his forehead, his jaw, and Eggsy lifts his chin and greets that exploring mouth and intrepid tongue with his own.

There are no further words. No time for them. No use for them. Not when lips, hands, and teeth can do better, can say so much more.


	5. The Love of Three - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Smuttery...

***           

             Roxy is an early riser, besting even Merlin at times, so it's a regular occurrence for both men to wake to breakfast in bed. Roxy normally sits with tray on her lap and watches them rest, cuddled together so close. And lets the waft of whatever she’s cooked, whether it is pancakes, croissants, or certain mouth-watering eggs, stir the two men in her life with happy smiles, instead of grumbles.

The tasty wake-up calls however, are secondary to the glory that is Roxy in a combination of their shirts and boxers. It seems akin to a declaration of ownership - you two are mine. It's a thrill that swells Eggsy’s heart every time, and much more.

Merlin always gifts her kisses of excellence on her cooking, after the last forkful. Especially the eggs, his eggs. He'd spent time teaching her all those mornings after she'd asked, so eager to learn like always. He never expected to have them presented to him in such a scenario, but he certainly isn’t complaining. _Such a clever girl_ , he whispers every time, and lays kisses along the exposed skin the fabric of his shirt fails to cover, hanging loosely on her small frame. Lips tender and hands soft in their grip; actions still hazed with sleep, but not for long. Never for too long. The plate removed from his lap and her slim figure replacing it, scooting closer til their chests touch, skin on skin, and he equates a roll of her hips with his having named her own reward.

Another advantage to waking early is so Roxy can draw them. Eggsy's caught her with pencil and pad in hand a few mornings, cracking open an eye to the scratch of graphite. He keeps quiet, not wanting to disturb the flow of her hand trying to capture every detail of their bodies. Merlin's tall frame tucked up behind his smaller one, toned arms keeping him close, so close Eggsy can feel the steady beat of the man’s heart and falls away to the rhythm, and Roxy still sketching.

              The first time Merlin penetrates him Eggsy's so sensitive, every nerve-ending electric and sparking, he nearly orgasms from the sensation alone. It seemed like hours Merlin spent opening him up ready, stretching the tight clench and stealing Eggsy's ability to breathe and see straight. But it wasn't just Merlin's hard length finally stealing away inside him after weeks of Eggsy hinting to no avail. Then unabashedly, under the influence of lust, begged and spilled the truth on the brink of release to have that glorious cock throbbing inside him.

 _Need it so bad, Merlin, please..._ The rigid curve in his palm, slick and thick, and moving between his fingers, foreskin sliding back, and picturing in his minds-eye it sheathed somewhere else, somewhere much more intimate, tight and perfect, and he whined breathlessly into the stubble of Merlin’s jaw... _Wanna feel it._ Because he'd wanted it ever since that first time, that first night, that pulsing vein beneath his and Roxy's fingertips, and imagined being filled up to the brim with it. The thought alone could shake him apart, had gotten him off so many times.

Except in the moment Eggsy finally got his wish, it was the other set of eyes on him, a hot and narrowed gaze of another witness at the point where Merlin and him were joined that made it so heightened.

From her perch on the pillows, cross-legged, Roxy had a perfect view to observe Merlin's fingers work their magic and produce cries of _more_ and _please_ , Eggsy’s rump rising and riding the digits. Following whenever they went to retreat, threatening to leave him empty, even a second would be too long, to have them returned to him with volition; pushing and gliding in firm and hot, and crooking just right. _Right there._

Every single one of Eggsy's entreaties were refused though, until Merlin was satisfied; three knuckles buried deep and no hitch of pain. Pink furl wet and giving as he scissored his fingers within, telling Merlin the greedy passage was capable of accommodating more; muscles yielding but silent in their needy clenches for a more substantial girth, to be filled.

Merlin patted Eggsy tenderly on the bum as he slipped on a condom, impressed by Eggsy's endurance, his patience for all his pleading. So the tetchy cuss thrown over sweat-sheened skin back at him carved a sharp smirk onto Merlin's lips. Particularly when the swearing was cut short and ended in a stutter as his thumb, fore, and middle finger expertly separated the pert bottom below so to touch the head of his cock to that twitching little hole. A little warning, a little teasing. Merlin’s grin curved wider as two sets of wanton moans met his ears, but a gentleman never rushes.

He took his time, thrusts purposefully shallow til the crown sunk in passed the first ring of sodden and willing muscles, and Merlin had to bite down, splitting his lip as his girth was engulfed by agonisingly sweet heat. Eggsy spasmed around the hard flesh entering him, yet the further it vanished within not a gasp or sigh was uttered only held, mouths agape as of Merlin’s shaft reaching the hilt, and then three moans of pleasure echoed about the four ambient walls...

Eggsy needed something, a distraction, already the tell tales signs sparked low and pooled at the base of his spine. He’d been so good, held off but Merlin crowded that spot that his fingers had only cruelly teased. It felt so good tears prickled the corners of his eyes and he squeezed them shut, unable to keep them open, and bit his nails hard into a pillow. He wasn't going to last, going to come, he needed an anchor, he needed...

His arms hooked under Roxy's legs and dragged her forward, the sudden action surprised a squeak out of her and jerked the hand from her panties to catch herself and stay upright. Eggsy asked with a gasped _please_ just when Merlin ghosted over his prostate again, ending his question in a pitched cry. Roxy carded a hand into his short locks, petted him in a gentle notion of sympathy before sharply tugging on the ashy roots to direct him. The sharp pain saved him, staving him from climaxing just that little longer, and all to get him closer to where wet lace had been peeled aside. Where she needed him, and where he was more than happy to go; chin tilting and neck craning to extend a heavy tongue to gratify her.

Hands splayed over the two wonderful divots above the flexing muscles of Eggsy’s arse, thumbs massaging and pressing into the two dips, Merlin hummed to himself and fucked into the younger man beneath him slowly. He timed his thrusts just so; precisely, purposely, now that he had his own spectacular view to enjoy. No need to hurry.

              Merlin is the most pliant in the mornings. Catch him just before he stirs and he’s like putty to do with and whatever one wants. Eggsy likes sneaking beneath the covers to invite a slow pleasurable waking that ushers Merlin’s knees up and threads a tight fist into short hair. And Merlin’s mouth is more than obliging for Roxy to sink onto; enjoying the slight burn of morning stubble and the echo of his moans as she rides his tongue, all the while Eggsy swallows him below.

He’s also the most vocal in bed. Merlin may not swear as much as Eggsy or encourage breathily like Roxy, but is the opposite of his day to day, straight-to-the-point manner. Why say something in three sentences when you can say it in one. He despises rambling. But get Merlin hot under the collar; cheeks flushed and hands grabby, and he'll sing for you til his velvet voice turns to a rasp and words can no longer make it passed his lips. The rumbles and groans deep within his chest however, more than fill the verbal void.

Eggsy has come more than once from Merlin’s aroused vocalisations. Whether Merlin rutting hard and unforgiving inside him, abandoned words of a delirious man spilling hot and filthy against his ear and sink and press just as deep as the man’s cock. They’re enough to bring Eggsy to orgasm without a secondary touch. Or a hand on himself and watching Roxy ride Merlin with punctuated grinds and clenches of her pelvic wall, drawing out blasphemes prayers of a faithless man.

She keeps Merlin on the precipice until he’s gasping for it, beseeching for release, and she shushes him each and every time with a needy whisper, right beside his ear. _Please, not yet. Just a little longer._ Voice purposely small and sinfully crafted so he can't possibly say no. No one could. Relenting on his own desires, he gives Roxy whatever she wants, accepting a slow, probing kiss in exchange. Her tongue delving deep like an anchor, distracting to halt any tumbling over the edge even a second too soon before _she_ wants it. His grip shifting lower to brace for the torturous repeat, pushing his own state to the back burner so she can take what she needs from him. Knuckles flexing at the impossibly slow rise then grind down of her weight, digging his thumbs into the join of her hip and thigh but not controlling, not guiding, just holding on for the ride.

That’s when Eggsy began to notice in those moments when he could easily join in, he wouldn't. He would just watch. He should want to step in and participate, and he does, except a larger part of him stops his feet or hands, and lets his eyes do the wandering.

He tried hiding it, ignoring and denying the urge all together before they could notice the perversion and say something. Except Merlin and Roxy _had_ noticed and _did_ say something. Ambushed him and extracted the confession from him. Bound his wrists and put him on his knees, then took a solitary chair to situate themselves before him. Roxy propped upon Merlin’s lap and she braced her calves one on either side of Eggsy's broad shoulders, before Merlin decidedly, as always, took his sweet, sweet time... They didn't even need to lay a finger on him, not once. Just told him it was okay. _It's not shameful to look._ _We like it_. And he came untouched; tailored trousers ruined.

It's now an addiction. The shame is still there but only makes the itch under his skin and gaze hotter now that he’s been given permission. There's no longer any guilt studying how Merlin takes Roxy apart, and he’s learned things, wicked things, observing their body’s reactions to each other. And noticed, whereas he loves using his mouth on her, Merlin has a fondness to apply his long fingers, curling them just right and focusing on getting her even wetter. And Roxy only ever gasps for more.

She has her own fetish. From wrist to palm to fingertips, Roxy loves Merlin's hands. They're aesthetically perfectly, and he can do so much with them. Dear god, can he.

It was during training Roxy’s little inclination became apparent. He stripped a standard Kingsman issue and reloaded within seconds, smoothly, efficiently, without his green eyes straying from the recruits. As if those long digits had the memory, not his mind, and then confirmed her notion. "You will learn this process until you can do it by feel alone. You will be blindfolded and timed. Under 15 seconds, or you'll be sent home. You have three hours. Good luck."

"What's the record?" Digby had asked. His father was of the hunting sort and owned every gun that was legal, been brought up with them. Dismantling the chambers and reloading was a pastime.

"10.5 seconds." Merlin almost imperceptible in his skeptism towards Digby's less-than-disguised challenge.

And he never did beat the record. He only just managed 14. Roxy on the other hand, did it in 10 flat. But Merlin had quirked a smile at her, almost proud, no derision present. "Good job, Miss Morton."

She'd managed to keep her embarrassment concealed, no heat rising to her cheeks, but barely before he’d strode away. If Merlin had known then she learned the sequence so quickly by recalling his beautiful fingers in action, she would've been mortified. However, in the first month of this foray into a ménage a trois, she slipped into the sleek black car waiting outside the London hotel, having finished the honeypot assignment, but _she_ hadn't.

Merlin had barely turned a dimly lit street corner before she swept into the front seat and onto his lap. "Pull over."

"Roxy..."

"Pull over." Lips attaching to his neck on a particularly weak spot while her fingertips caressed the length of his over the gearstick. "I'm so wet. Feed me your fingers. Please."

Merlin obeyed, practically hand-braked into a parking spot. Thank god it was two am and the Aston's windows were tinted as her tongue plunged and met with his. No one had ever kissed him the way she does, so possessive, all consuming, breathtaking. It struck him dumb and curled a fist of heat at the base of his spine every time. He can only ever succumb to it.

It had been Merlin's instructions rather than the target who'd put her in this state, that rich brogue over the comm and imagining his knuckles gracing the soft skin of her inner thigh and travelling lower. It's what had got her through til she no longer had to… Merlin was finally touching her the way she'd fantasised about. So perfect, so right, it loosened her lips and she confessed her obsession like a catholic sinner, and just how she beat the gun-trial time.

Merlin didn't falter, didn't stop through all breathy exclamations against his stubbled jaw and bruised lips. He continued sliding and inching his fingers deeper, rubbing over the nub just right and calling her _a clever girl_ to draw out a high-pitched cry. Then as she rode his palm, wet from the steady drip of her enthusiasm, divulged that it had been his record she'd bested that day and channeled his thoughts on the matter and newly divulged information upon her. Set about applying his dexterous talent beneath the chiffon of her blue dress, which had risen so nicely up to the crease of her hips that he could witness clearly the easy journey of his digits sinking between her thighs.

Merlin spent a lot longer than eleven seconds attending to Roxy, delighting her for the first time with his hands alone. Enough to pinch her fingernails into the leather interior of his seat while his did the same to the firmness of her bottom, encouraging her rocking rhythm, bringing her further forward onto his ministrations. He memorised every caress and stroke that brought heat to her cheeks and moans to her lips, wet fingers seeking in the heat, clutching and cupping her dripping mound to culminate and calculate the right pressure, at the right moment, to have her hips buck and throw her head back in a ravaged scream.

Merlin placed a loving kiss to Roxy’s damp temple as she lay sated and boneless upon his chest, and whispered softly to her with no care to their location or any passersby. Nor to his valet attire. Roxy had to fetch him a clean pair of suit pants from inside the tailors once they'd returned. And thanked every deity Harrison had taken a 'convenient' tea break while on the nightshift.

So for Roxy it's Merlin's slender, talented hands, while for Eggsy it's to watch. A filthy, dirty, hungry voyeur panting heavy at the scene of Roxy clinging to Merlin, her hands grabbing and nails scratching. Sharp crescents are taking shape into the shifting muscles of his back, spine dipping and shoulder blades rolling as he strives to claim her body. Her toned thighs squeeze his hips, rocking him forward, encouraging him deeper until he's flush against her. Eggsy's hand strokes in time with every thrust and he shudders at every one of Roxy's responding moans, praising and cursing Merlin's pace, who won't ever fuck like a mad man. Hard and rough but never quick. In this particular case it's his revenge on the younger woman, giving her a heady dose of her own medicine for every minute she's staved off his pleasure.

Sometimes it's too much though and it loosens one punishing hand off Merlin and stretches over the sheets to grasp for Eggsy, needy. He crawls closer in those moments, so very close and laces her fingers in his, and licks a strip up to her ear to speak low and obscene. How'd she'd sound caught between the two of them, at their mercy, their two cocks filling her up... bubbling a wanton keen from her redden, parted lips. And for Merlin to pitch forward, a quick snap of his hips; an inch deeper and closer to the edge, loudly groaning his assent at the promising idea.

But gentlemen always let their partners come first. Always. And there just so happens to be two of them.

              Merlin's taken to fucking them while standing; up against bedroom walls, doors, and the cockpit. High off adrenalin and not sparing enough time to even discard suits, just flicking the switch to auto-pilot, and trousers and underwear dragged low. Ticking not one but two experiences off of Eggsy's bucket list, joining the mile high club and fucked by a man in uniform. The dry-cleaning bill runs higher every air-bound mission.

However, the mansion's corridors, long and winding with hidden pockets, provide the trio with their homely excitement. The smallest of blind spots only Merlin knows about and puts such expert knowledge to good use, pressing upon Eggsy or Roxy's needy frame after they pressed upon him. Relieving the heat in his veins at the sly touches of his knee or arm, and hot whispers whilst leant upon his shoulders while he's sat in the lab trying to work. Sometimes out of hours but then sometimes not, such is the delicious challenge of keeping quiet less they be heard and caught with their bespoke trousers down.

He's reprimanded them once, telling them to be careful, but mostly not to be so cruel to him, that descended into apologetic kisses and multiple orgasms. But Eggsy didn't heed the warning; he just had to push, and received a spanking he wouldn't forget in a hurry over Merlin's knees. Then again, wouldn't want to. Eggsy even missed the sting when sitting down once the bruises of the salacious beating had faded. Made him want to rile Merlin a little more, do it again. And maybe he would. Definitely would.

On particular nights, when Merlin can't come out to play, and carefully chosen knowing secondary eyes don't lurk on the security monitors, do the crafty pair make use of their knowledge of the mansion. Merlin, the foremost on multitasking, never falters in his instructions and aid while overseeing active missions, even whilst surveying Roxy and Eggsy out the corner of his eye and a hand missing from the dashboard. Only the first time spotting their activities did he double-take and surrender a low _Oh_ , Eggsy on his knees and Roxy's bare leg tight over his shoulder. But didn't close the screens on that occasion, or on any other.

Any footage captured of the indiscretions is of course edited for no other technician to find. Imagine the shock if they were to come across agent Galahad with his legs spread wide and Merlin’s unmistakable lean frame situated between them. Firm ass clenching and rocking forward, trousers and boxers pooled at his ankles, strong hands hooked under Eggsy’s knees practically forcing them to the wall to keep him open as he ploughs into the younger man with a will. Gruff belly-deep groans scratching the raw, lavished skin of Eggsy’s neck, along with the sharp pain of teeth to contrast to the slick, pleasurably glide of Merlin’s cock to enforce the point that this is punishment. Merlin finally letting the teasing little shit have it, what he's been asking for all day. Giving him a thoroughly rough ride to answer all those tempting touches and insinuating stares. He won’t walk right for days.

And with the force and feel of Merlin’s cock pounding and holding Eggsy up amongst the staring portraits, being fucked in full view of past members of the Kingsman lineage, Eggsy knows he will feel those painted eyes on him every time he passes them in the future, and feel open in the most intimate way remembering the ghost of Merlin inside him.

          However, never more intimate are the evenings and occasional morning Merlin licks his way in; tongue strong, breaching the most private part of him until he's had his fill and Eggsy can't keep to his knees without help. Steady hands then on his hipbones, keeping him propped, Merlin slides in with ease until he’s flush against his ass. No more inch for Eggsy’s greedy, quivering body to take. Eggsy knew then, the first time, and every time since that he was ruined for anybody else. His heart pounding so hard and fast besting even the pace of Merlin’s punishing length, crown of the man’s cock glancing the bundle of nerves inside to the point he can barely handle it and has to bury his face in the pillows, crying out in abandon. To which Merlin always anchors his weight down so he can't escape the moment, can’t escape him. Knows who's above him, who’s buried inside to the very hilt, and feels the sweat from their strenuous activities mingle together in the demanding press. And Merlin’s voice low and lustful reaches the very marrow in Eggsy's bones as he rocks them closer, tighter, and tells him he’s _such a good boy_ as he calls out Merlin’s name, spending his load across the sheets unbidden.

The first time, not an hour later, Merlin was perfectly dressed; glasses and sweater in place, and clipboard in hand answering questions at the head of the Kingsman table with an authority no one doubted. Eggsy couldn't look him in the eye. Everyone else unaware of the man's sinful appetite. Eggsy could still feel Merlin’s lips and nibble of his teeth, the hot lick of his…

When Merlin caught the glassy eyes of young Galahad staring most pointedly at the thin line of his mouth, he hid his smirk behind a lick of his lips. Barely a glimpse of tongue but Eggsy abruptly squirmed in his seat and that wonderful blush returned from earlier that Merlin had worked hard all the morning to paint on him. The milky and still mostly unmarred skin of Eggsy’s chiselled but ever-so-flexible body, glowed a lovely pink and stretched the length of his body. But now sadly beneath tailored layers, Merlin’s view was obstructed from seeing how far it went. Whereas not long ago, naked and still warm and yielding from sleepiness, Eggsy's cheek had been pressed to the sheets puffing hot breaths between lean legs, and Merlin had an eyeful and a mouthful of the young boy’s flesh. Reclined against the headboard and arms supporting his legs, not letting him slip away, he kept Eggsy up to the challenge and reach of his mouth.

He’d been embarrassed at first, Eggsy trying to hide his face and tamp down his confused enthusiasm, yet still squirming and keening up at every lick and wet trace of Merlin's tongue. He hadn't wanted to get up, refused to, even after breakfast, and watching Merlin's hand sink between Roxy's folds before she left. He enjoyed the show as always, then rolled over to snooze some more. Merlin had to do something. And he just so happened to kill two birds with one stone. He’d been tempted for awhile; Eggsy really did have the most wonderful bottom.

Seconds were had later that afternoon, with an audience. An answer to the questioning eyebrow Roxy had quirked between the two over the Kingsman table, very curious. And she was left more than satisfied.

             If anyone ever catches Merlin idle at his workbench, mulling over designs or concentrating to solve an immediate issue, anyone observant would notice a new tick; hands resting on his hipbones while his fingers rub unconsciously at the crease beneath the band of his trousers and tucked shirt. But to discover why would leave many red-faced in the department, shocked and in disbelief to uncover. A particular brand of bruising, two a permanent fixture upon his person, one from each glorious mouth of his lovers left on the defined V of his hips.

Except those aren’t the only ones.

Eggsy and Roxy take it upon themselves to colour Merlin up, smatter his body from top to toe. Initially an experiment, Merlin’s wrists attached to the headboard by the material of his silk tie, echoing the sensation of their tongues over his goose-pimpled flesh. Sucking and nipping to discover and familiarise, producing such torrid moans Merlin became an instrument for them to play. The sheets bunching beneath Merlin’s heels as they draw lower and at their leisure, having learnt from the best to savour every throaty groan and the heady taste of a job well done. Taking turns and watching under lashes for Merlin's reactions, wrists pulling and toes curling, and the beads of sweat running the path from his temple to his collarbone a testament to them and just what they, together, can do to him.

They remember to be cautious, not to push too hard for too long though. Merlin is not fragile but he can only take so much. They do show mercy in abundance, meeting to slot their mouths over him, hot and wet, stretching to touch and work along the shaft to the rim of the head. Sharing the spoils like always when he pulses sticky salt between their lips.

His naked reflection stares back every morning in the misted bathroom mirror, and Merlin can’t help but caress the bruises, prideful in the way he draws and traces the pattern over the bone of his hip. The bloom of his favourite signs of claiming always a comfort to him. He fingers the dark purple marks with a half-pained but amused chuckle, then turns to admire the marred flesh at the top of his shoulders and over the slope of his back. The result and evidence of two sets of hands and lips working together, adventurous and daring, that tugs a smile from the corners of his.

Eggsy and Roxy caught him during such a worshipful display, heads peeped round the bathroom door, and promised to do it ever since. Merlin’s kink should've been obvious really with his neck so sensitive, and he relishes every long, red score down his spine with a shudder. So never would he go about without their brand upon him or let them fade without replacing.

And if anyone noticed his sudden penchant for turtlenecks, no one said a word.

               Eggsy never knew how much laughter he could experience during sex but Roxy and him always seem to gasp with chuckles just as much from pleasure. He loves her close; forearm curved to the line of her, hand splayed between her shoulderblades, stomachs touching as he rocks into her. She tips her head, neck bared when it becomes all too much and giggles, yet her heels press into the toned globes of his ass encouraging him, hips rolling to take him in.

He gets caught up sometimes, just admiring, unconsciously slowing his movements earning him a smack to his arm and sharp reprimand of, “Focus, Eggsy.” Though a playful smile always on her lips.

“Yes, maam, sorry, maam.” And he gets right back to it. Until they’re on the brink once more, her mouth open and her blonde locks spreading so lovely over the pillow…

"You bastard. Don't you dare stop," and gets another swipe for him faltering.

He blames her, of course. “Shouldn’t distract me so much.” It’s her fault for being so beautiful. But Eggsy wouldn't stop, not for the world, and he tells her that. Whispers; breath ghosting purposely to trail goosebumps, loving the way her fingers tug and bite into his scalp, and swear by almighty god if he stops again...

Sometimes he's kind, other times he takes another page from Merlin's book.

And Eggsy never knew he could be taken care of, or allow himself to be. For his body to be vulnerable and open, yet not be scared.

It hits him in the aftermath, spent and breathless, chest shimmering with perspiration and rising quick to gather air. Merlin's hands going from deliciously bruising to delicately careful, soothing over his skin to hold and lower him gently from his seated position on Merlin's lap to the soft mattress. Gasping a whimper at the sudden emptiness abandoning him, his legs surrendering a spasm in the change of position after riding for so long and so hard. Before Merlin cleans him up, speaking warm Scottish endearments and kissing to distract from any minor discomfort while he checks the tenderest of places, scrutinises the consequences of their enthusiastic activities. The mindfulness causes Eggsy’s heart to twinge and chest to stutter, overwhelmed, and catch Merlin's mouth with his own and hold him there until his tired body succumbs to exhaustion.

He never thought it could be like this, or could feel this way and not be at a disadvantage or used. Not to have worry hanging over his head and a thick shield protecting his heart, not be afraid to let anyone in…

Yet in the middle of the two, Merlin above him, fingers curving over the small of his back drawing a warm cloth lower, while Roxy smiles kisses against Eggsy’s jaw, knees still cradling his sides in the afterglow, Eggsy realises he's not just let one person in, but two…

His shoulders begin to shake with the sudden force of it, overcome by the weight, and he seeks sanctuary in the column of Roxy's neck.

"Eggsy? What's wrong?" Merlin's immediate concern beside his left ear. "Did I hurt you?"

Eggsy nearly laughs at the absurdity because Merlin never could. There's not one part of him, not for a second, in any way believes Merlin could hurt him. Even after all he's seen the man is capable of, not towards him, or Roxy.

Roxy cups his face, coaxing his head from her shoulder gently, smile gone, and replaced with a frown. Lips pursed and that little crease above her eyebrow telling him she's here, her focus entirely on him. "Eggsy, tell us. What's wrong?"

Eyes closing briefly, trailing tears down his cheeks, he shakes his head. "N,nothing, nothing's wrong." And a small smile breaks over his face because it's true. "Nothing at all."

This is absurd. Ridiculous. Unbelievable. But he’s in love with every part and every piece of this moment. Of his life. With these two people.

He's happy.

“I’m happy.”

Roxy claims his mouth sweetly, completely, leaving no room for doubt that the feeling is mutual. And Merlin presses his chest to Eggsy’s frame with a gentle pressure and lavishes his neck and line of his shoulders with the same dedication.

And whoever thought that was possible, knew such things could happen in real life, Eggsy didn't. Not until now.

 

Fin.


End file.
